


tummy aches and text messages

by bonca



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 02:52:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14150358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonca/pseuds/bonca
Summary: Dan's body feels like paper; fragile and crumpled. Phil knows how to fix him, and does.





	tummy aches and text messages

**Author's Note:**

> hiya!! here's a fluffy oneshot i posted to my tumblr (philsbear)!! i'd really appreciate it if you went and showed that post some love as this fic kinda made me fall in love with writing all over again.
> 
> it does have a few detailed scenes of feeling dizzy and whatnot, so pleas be careful!
> 
> apart from that, enjoy!!

It's Tuesday night and silly shows are playing through one after another on the TV. Underneath the fake laughter of the audience, soft typing sounds come from Phil's laptop which is planted firmly in his lap. It leaves a warmth on his thighs, and it's probably overheating, but that's the least of his worries.

Dan's sat snuggly on the other couch, underneath blankets upon blankets. His eyes are illuminated by the screen, but Phil can tell that they aren't focused on it. It's his distraction. The boy's arms are wrapped around his waist, his fingers almost digging into his sides. Dan's face is almost paper white.

"Hey, Dan?" Phil softly speaks, hiding his growing concern. Before Dan can even muster a reply, he continues. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. I just have a bit of a bad stomach and headache, that's all." His tone is unsteady and his eyes don't leave the screen as he speaks. Phil doesn't know why because the adverts are on. Who pays attention to adverts?

He gently closes the lid of his laptop, and rests it on the arm of the couch. Phil gets to his feet, knowing what to look for but not knowing where to find it, and doesn't notice when Dan turns to look at him leave with teary eyes.

Dan's hands, still pressed up against his shirt, shake ever-so-slightly as he tries to concentrate on the television. It's no use, though, because watching Colgate adverts through his thick tears is a skill he's yet to master. Instead, everything's just blurry.

 _It's not here_ , Phil begins to panic to himself, _it's not here and he needs it._ He's ruffling through the kitchen drawers, which even in _his_ opinion is useless because _who keeps hot water bottles in the cutlery drawer_? Dan and Phil, apparently, because he's pulling it out of the third drawer down.

It's sat in a red woolly cover with little Christmas tree patterns on it, and Phil rolls his eyes because it's _March_ , not December. The water inside splashes around as he holds it close, attempting to screw the cap open. Finally, it pops, and he flicks the switch on the half-full kettle.

Water warmed and poured in, Phil places the lid back in and returns to the living room. Dan's eyes are closed as they sit above drying tear stains, and his head is bent in a clearly uncomfortable position over the side of the couch.

"Dan, babe, wake up. I got you this." Phil murmurs to the boy on the couch, as he gently rubs his upper arm. He takes Dan's quiet hum in reply as a welcome to sit down, so he does.

Dan shifts and leans his head on the other's shoulder, taking the hot water bottle and clutching onto it. It's quite comfortably warm, even though he knows it'll be too warm later. He slips his eyes closed again when he feels Phil's hand slowly playing with his curls.

"We don't have any paracetamols, Dan, so I'll have to go get some soon, okay?" Phil's voice is like a soft lullaby to Dan's ears, enough to send him to sleep in a matter of minutes, until he realises what the words coming out of his mouth actually meant.

" _Phil_ , no, please don't leave." He knows he's whining, but he's sick and you're _allowed_ to whine when you're sick. "The house is scary when you're not here."

"I'll only be ten minutes, I promise. Boots is just down the road. You can text me until I come back, yeah?" The older boy's cheeks pull slightly up into a smile. Dan feels it and _oh, God_ , he wishes he could see Phil right now because _he looks so unfairly pretty when he smiles like that._ Dan could swear Phil was a mind-reader, because just as he's thinking about Phil's stupidly perfect smile, he grins even wider and turns to press a kiss on the side of Dan's face, just upon his freckles.

"Yeah, okay, _fine_." He tries to sound serious, but they both giggle at his poor attempt. Phil's laugh echoes through the living room, and it's such a _genuine_ , bright laugh it puts the TV show to shame. Dan's would be louder if the inside of his stomach didn't feel like it was being rubbed with a cheese grater.

"Let's get you up to your bed." Phil carefully untangles himself from Dan, unwrapping his arm from around the other boy. He sits up and looks back at the eyes that are now lit up without the help of the screen.

" _Our_ bed." He corrects him, and the fond smiles they exchange say everything.

 

* * *

 

"Yeah, _no_ , that isn't going to work." The TV is off, leaving the apartment quieter than it was a few minutes ago, and Phil's leaning over a side table to turn his lava lamp off.

" _Please_ , Phil. I can't walk up there all by myself." Dan's tone is childish, but it's amusing, and you could swear his eyes are almost fluttering. He pouts before carrying on. "I'm too _weak_."

Phil giggles at that, because he _knows_ that Dan knows that an over six foot tall man can't carry an also over six foot tall man up a long flight of stairs. It's just Dan trying to be funny, and Phil loves him for his silly sense of humour.

The living room lights are off, leaving only the kitchen one on as the soft glow pours onto Phil's face. Dan's still hunched over in his blankets and _why is he so lazy? Oh, right, he's sick._

"Do you want me to hold your hand and take you up step by step? Because that's what I'll do if you don't at least _try_ and help yourself here." As soon as he says it, Phil regrets it because now Dan's smirking under the dim light and _he's such a dick, that was a joke!_

" _Yes_."

"No! I am _not_." Phil's pout matches Dan's, and he crosses his arms. His cheeks inflate a little though, because he's _so determined_ not to laugh.

It's only a matter of minutes before he gives in. His lips curve up before he brings his hands up to his mouth, giggling softly into them. He catches Dan doing the same before clutching his stomach and hot water bottle tighter. Phil, laughter fading, reaches out his hand and it fits like a puzzle piece in Dan's.

He carefully helps him up because he knows that Dan must feel as heavy as a ton of bricks. Phil takes the bottle from him, and leads him out of the dark room.

The younger boy yawns as he lets Phil pull him up the stairs. He feels like he's not there, like he's floating. Dan feels so dizzy, he's scared of Phil letting go because he might just fall. The walls are spinning and his feet are miles away from his head which, for the record, feels like a construction site. Dan can almost _hear_ the drilling into his skull.

Unbeknownst to Dan, his boyfriend hears his unsteady breathing and as he holds his hand; shaking and sweaty, and tugs on his arm a little harder.

They finally make it to the top of the stairs, and Dan feels like he's just hiked to the top of Everest. He feels faint, and every doorway they go through and corner they turn only make him feel worse. Dan's legs feel like jelly, and they're about to give out beneath him.

It's not really a surprise when he barely recognises his own bedroom walls because _they're spinning, they're spinning, everything is spinning._ He brings his hand up to his mouth, but it's numb. When did he go numb?

"Hey, Phil?" Dan manages to string the two simple words together, and _did his voice just crack?_ He's now sat on the edge of the bed, and Phil's reaching for the covers to pull over him. "My hands are tingly. Like, really, _really_ tingly. Is that normal?"

"I'm going to say _no_?" Phil's voice is laced with concern, and he thinks Dan doesn't notice. Dan notices everything.

"At my funeral, please play-"

"Can you _please_ stop being so overdramatic?" They both giggle, Dan's stomach clenching when he does, and Phil hands him his hot water bottle. He stands there for a minute, staring down at Dan who's drowning in his duvet. His eyes are closed and despite the fact that he's obviously in pain, he looks so peaceful.

"So, are you getting painkillers or not? Kind of dying here, Phil." A smile spreads on Dan's cheeks, and his dimples smile with him.

"I'm going, _I'm going!_ You wouldn't say you were trying to get rid of me. I'll text you." Feeling his phone in his back pocket, Phil turns to leave the room.

"Just please don't be long, 'm tired and in need of cuddles." Dan murmurs, hugging the hot water bottle tighter.

"You'll get _many_ cuddles later. Don't doubt that for a second."

 

* * *

 

It's dark, and really warm. Dan's staring up at the ceiling and he's not _completely_ sure where he is, but he thinks it's his bed. He turns on his side and smiles when he sees the faint outline of Phil. His breathing calming to Dan; steady and quiet.

Dan rolls over to his other side, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and pulling out the charger. At first, the screen is overwhelmingly bright. It pours into his eyes and blinds him, as he struggles to turn the brightness down. Eyes adjusted, Dan squints at his iMessage icon. _37 new messages_.

He taps on it only to see that they're all from Phil, and _oh, right_ , he was probably messaging him when he was in Boots. _Boots_ , who names a shop _Boots_?

The boy scrolls to the first message, and reads every single one at _least_ twice. They're messages telling Dan that it's going to be okay, they're reminding him how much Phil loves him and how he can't wait to get home to kiss him all over until they fall asleep. The messages are messy, typo-riddled, but they carry so much love and affection that the two dozen heart emojis can be forgiven.

He doesn't tell Phil in the morning how much they made him cry.


End file.
